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CHAPTER FOUR
ISLAMIZATION REFORMS: TOWARDS PAN-MUSLIM AND PAN-ISMAILI IDENTITIES

After my junior year of high school I was going to England for a university interview, so I decided to stop in Arabia because I wanted to see Mecca. The long Hajj at dhul-Hijja is compulsory for all Muslims, and at any other time of the year one can do umrah, the lesser pilgrimage. I went against my mother's wishes - she told me not to go since I didn't know the language or the people. I had wanted to see Medina as well, but I did not have the extra $100 to fly there from Mecca. On the way to the airport a rich Bohra friend gave me an envelope, which I thought was a letter to read on the plane. Once we were in the air, I opened it and found a $100 bill and a note that read, "Go to Medina and say a prayer for me."

Saudi Arabia is a different society. It's too expensive to take a cab alone so at the airport I got in and waited until it was full. A family joined me and we shared the cab for 45 minutes. Later I saw them at the hotel and we remembered each other. When they found out I was traveling alone, they adopted me like a son. When they got some food, the man gave it first to his wife, then to me, then his son and then he took for himself. He gave it to me before his own son! The people are there to please God and they are kind for the sake of religion... At our hotel, only one room was available that night. So the family invited me to move in with them, and I didn't have to pay.

One time I went to buy a drink and I gave the shopkeeper 300 riyals (Saudi currency) instead of 300 cents. The man sat me down and pulled out all the bills and coins and explained them to me. He didn't speak English but he took out time to explain the currency to me. Where else would that happen? It's a very different society. The next day I shared a taxi with a man and his daughter. When we stopped our journey for lunch, I decided to skip the meal and save my money for a hearty dinner. The man ordered food for me and said, "You must eat."

I'm not sure why I went to Arabia - I just felt an urge to be there. I can't describe it. I am saving money so that I can go back. Once you get the chance to go, you want to keep going back. I guess there is a Muslim connection.

Navroz told me this story. He understands his desire to go to Mecca and Medina as part of his duty as a Muslim. The feeling he projects seems to be the ideal of brotherhood and ummah (community), which are central principles in Islam. His mother Sheela, who I also spoke to, disagrees with her son on several points:

I have nothing against building bridges [with other Muslims]. I don't like partitioning in a social sense. We have certain common beliefs, but that is the same whether Hindu, Christian or Muslim. I don't relate [to Islam] in a personal sense. In that way I see Ismailism as separate - it is not that I am anti-Muslim. Ismailis are better off than Muslim counterparts. I think helping them is equal to helping Africans or any other community... My son asks me why fifteen million people have access but others are deprived [of Ismailism]... My son says that you should first relate to Muslims before you can be an Ismaili - I don't feel that way.

Sheela feels that Ismailis are unique, and separate from Muslims which she groups as "other" along with Hindus, Christians and Africans. Her comments are also related to class, especially when she says that "Ismailis are better off than Muslim counterparts." The Muslims she is referring to are likely those of Arab or African origin. She may also be thinking about orientalist depictions of Muslims in the Western media she sees, where they are portrayed as wild, throbbing, poor masses. In contrast, her image of Ismailis is successful and middle class, with a wealthy and respected leader.

By interviewing several groups of family members from different generations, I found differences in Muslim identity depending on the age of the informant. These changes, which in the case of Sheela and Navroz are fairly distinct, are primarily due to the Islamization reforms initiated by Aga Khan III and continued by Aga Khan IV over the past few decades. In this chapter I will focus on three of these changes - switching the du'a into Arabic from the original Gujarati, decreasing the numbers of portraits of Aga Khan IV and removing the takht from all jamatkhanas. The younger generations have also been influenced by the syllabi of their religious education classes, which have taken a significantly more pan-Muslim perspective.

It is important to understand the history of the Ismailis, which provides insight into some of the motivations for instituting these reforms. As I explained in Chapter Two, the Khojah Ismailis left for East Africa, they lived primarily in the regions of Kutch and Katiawar in what is now the state of Gujarat in northwestern India. Their ancestors were originally members of the Hindu Lohana caste (Asani 1994: 17) and had been converted by Ismaili pirs (missionaries) from Persia, beginning in the early eleventh century (Morris 1968: 68). The term Khojah was used to replace the original Sindhi caste group name thakwar, and was redefined in religious terms by Aga Khan I in the nineteenth century (Asani 1998, personal communication). The term refers not only to Ismailis, but to several Hindu-converted Muslim communities. To make the transition from Hinduism to Islam as easy as possible, the missionaries used Hindu ideology to make Ismailism more palatable (Walji 1974: 6). For example Ali, the first Imam, was said to be the tenth reincarnation of the Hindu deity Vishnu, and the Qu'ran was presented as the last of the Hindu scriptures known as the Vedas (as quoted in Salvadori 1989: 224). Thus, many Ismaili practices are syncretic because they are heavily influenced by Hindu beliefs, and are considered un-Islamic and heretical by some within the larger Muslim community (Asani 1987: 34, Asani 1994: 17, Morris 1968: 3).

When the Khojah Ismailis came to East Africa, Aga Khan III instituted a group of reforms that included "de-Indianization", Islamization and Westernization (Asani 1987: 36; 1994: 20). In Chapter Three I examined some of the results of the "de-Indianization" which included a distancing of the Indian homeland as a place of return or identification. This chapter discusses the Islamization begun by Aga Khan III and continued by his grandson Aga Khan IV. It is important to note that the Westernization reforms had a significant impact on the Ismailis and their outlook in colonial East Africa. Aga Khan III took over the Imamate (leadership) at age eight and soon moved to France where he spent the majority of his life. Through his close associations with Europeans, he adopted the outlook that for his community to "progress," they too must affiliate with the ruling British in East Africa (Amiji 1982: 177). His reforms were both economic and social, and included:

emphasis on secular education, particularly female education, abolition of the veil for women, greater participation of women in communal affairs, increasing use of health clinics and investment of communal funds in modern entrepreneurial activities (Amiji 1982: 177).

These Westernization reforms were also tied to "de-Indianization" in that Aga Khan III had made clear the importance of eliminating an "Asiatic outlook" (Aga Khan 1954: 188), and had presented the progressive West in opposition to the obsolete East. The project of Westernization was complemented with Islamization - two ideas he did not see as mutually exclusive (Kassam-Remtulla 1997a: 4). His interpretation of the Qu'ran was unique. He maintained that while the Qu'ran remained the same, "every generation, every century, every period must have a new and different interpretation to that of the past, otherwise Islam will die" (as quoted in Kanji 1990: 13). This sentiment motivated many of his Islamization reforms, and had a lasting impact on his grandson and successor Aga Khan IV, who vigorously instituted further changes about which I speak below.

Revitalizing Islam: The Institution of Islamization Reforms

Dolat sat upright against the cushioned settee. Her blue-bordered white sari looked similar to those worn by Mother Teresa's Sisters of Charity, except that it was made of chiffon instead of cotton. This woman, who was almost eighty, was telling stories of her childhood in Zanzibar. She was the daughter of a very prominent Ismaili leader, and explained that while her father had been extraordinarily wealthy, the family she started with her husband in the early 1940s was poor. Dolat was one of the first people I interviewed. Several people referred me to her and her husband as good informants because of their social status and fluency in English. Her eighty-two year old husband, who was away for surgery in India, was writing an historical book about Ismailis in East Africa. Many people in the community respected Dolat and her husband, and referred to them as wise elders in Nairobi.

Much of Dolat's life story revolved around service - to the Imam and his family, to the community and especially to the poor. She explains:

When I was young, I knew a poor woman who was deaf and dumb. We [my husband and I] were also poor, even though my father was a billionaire. [To help this deaf woman] I would stand at nandi (food auction) and with my eyes bid on the best food for her. I used my eyes so my family would not see me. Then I would give this woman the nandi, and when I remember the look on her face, I shiver. I have always had a feeling for the poor: because my father was a billionaire all the other Ismailis thought I was also rich. One day a woman came to me and said that she had nothing to wear for Khushyali (see glossary). So I told her I would bring a pacheddi (outfit) to khane (short for jamatkhana) for her, and I gave her my best pacheddi... I only had three or four. The other women said, "what will you wear for Khushyali if you give away your best pacheddi?" But I said that it did not matter. I would wear another pacheddi.

Dolat portrays herself as a giving and altruistic person. While she emphasizes her relative poverty in marriage, she maintains her class standing by highlighting the incredible wealth of her father.

This class status within the community afforded her many opportunities, especially for interacting with and serving the Imam and his family which is seen as a great honor by the Ismaili community. While she lived a humble life, Dolat had a certain privilege which distinguished her from other poor people. As much as she claimed poverty, she cannot deny the status afforded her by her class background. Dolat told me that during World War II, Alykhan and Sadrudin (Aga Khan III's sons) came to East Africa to stay with her family:

At night Alykhan would play bridge, and he asked me to sit by him. So the whole night I sat with him and watched, which is how I learned how to play bridge ... Now I play with the Europeans and always come first or second... Twice a week I play bridge, and twice a week I play rummy. Do you want me to only go to khane and eat and sleep? I have to balance my life, right?

Dolat was especially proud of her close associations with Europeans, and her ability to beat them at their own card games. She spoke critically about upper class Ismaili women, explaining that:

all they do is gossip and talk about what people are wearing. You don't learn anything from them. I read English books a lot. They are not all educational, but maybe one paragraph will teach you something in modern ways.

A racial hierarchy is apparent from this statement - one where English and modern are linked and defined against Ismaili and gossip. Even though Dolat speaks in this manner about Europeans, she is a devout Ismaili and expects all her grandchildren to marry within the community. The issue of gossip, that Dolat brings up, is an interesting one. Most Ismailis are hungry for information about the Noorani (of the Imam, literally to have noor) family. Just as the British and others follow the news of their monarchy, Ismailis search for gossip about the private lives and miracles of Aga Khan IV and his family.

As with British royalty and their followers, Ismailis aspire to be like the Noorani family and emulate their clothing, choice of university, vacation plans and so on. Dolat offers me another drink, and the servant comes to replenish my empty glass with fresh-squeezed orange juice. She is a feisty old woman, and smiles at me as she settles back into the chair, swaddled in her sari. We begin to speak about the changes occurring in the jamatkhanas. As someone who was alive during the changing of the du'a from Gujarati to Arabic, I ask her to explain it to me:

In 1954 they made a new du'a. The old one was too long (fifteen or twenty minutes). One sujud (prostration) in the old du'a was the same length as the new du'a. It was also in Hindi, they changed it to Arabic. I never asked why. I just accepted it. I don't argue.

Despite her inquisitive and independent nature, Dolat, like the majority of Ismailis of her generation, embraces changes initiated by Aga Khan IV without question. She believes that the Imam knows what is best for his murids.

Several other informants had interesting thoughts to offer on the new du'a. Since the change occurred several decades ago, the majority of people who can speak with authority are middle-aged and elderly:

[The du'a is in] Arabic because of Sultan Mohammed Shah's instructions. I think that Arabs and other Muslims began to question the Sindhi du'a. The first thing a Muslim learns is the Qu'ran. Slowly change to Arabic du'a, the language of the Qu'ran. A lot of criticism of the Sindhi [du'a]. Arabic is international - Muslims learn the Qu'ran to be more in harmony with other Muslims. Since then, Muslims [have said] this [du'a] is okay. (Ismail)

Changing the du'a was a good thing. Having some ayats(verses) from the Qu'ran makes sense. Other Muslims would practically say you are not Muslims. This way we are part of [Islam]. (Shirin, female, elderly, upper class)

Major change in 1956-57 when the du'a changed from Gujarati to Arabic. Now there is global uniformity. It is Arabic text, learn text in different alphabet, learn meaning. Islamic culture is in the Arabic language - [we've made the change] to identify more towards Islam. It's the right move. (Bashir, male, middle age, upper class) Among my informants, there seems to be a disagreement on the language of the former du'a - be it Sindhi, Hindi or Gujarati, and also on the date the new du'a was instituted. This might be because the new du'a was introduced with minimal ceremony, to prevent too much attention being paid to the change. Salvadori explains that the change in du'a was a manifestation of Aga Khan III's effort to integrate Ismailis with other Muslims. In the 1930s, he began the "elimination of certain practices that some Muslims might interpret as offensive" (1989: 233). She points to Aga Khan III as instrumental in the formation of many pan-Muslim institutions in Kenya and abroad. In 1956 he "decreed that his Khojah followers should no longer say their daily prayers in Gujarati but recite the du'a in Arabic" (Salvadori 1989: 233). Since then, the du'a has been changed once more by Aga Khan IV.

Aga Khan IV was selected to follow his grandfather, and continue to implement changes geared towards pan-Islamization. Each Imam must choose a successor from among his male kin, and while the responsibility is usually given to the first son, Aga Khan III deemed his son Alykhan the playboy, to be unsuitable. Sultan Mohammed Shah chose his successor carefully, and encouraged Aga Khan IV to study Islamic History, instead of engineering, as an undergraduate at Harvard. The current Imam has gone on to establish chairs and programs in Islamic Studies at several universities, and founded the Aga Khan Award for Islamic Architecture. Following in his grandfather's footsteps, he has brought Islam to the West in a palatable form. This is in comparison to the ideas and stereotypes about Islam that have been based on and interpreted from Yasser Arafat, Ayatollah Khomeini, Saddam Hussein and Moammar Kadhafi. He gave the commencement speech at MIT in 1994, the Baccalaureate address at Brown University in 1996, and spoke about Islam to the Commonwealth Press Union in Cape Town, South Africa. He has also been active in promoting continued changes in the practice of Ismailism, especially in the jamatkhana prayer halls. Over the last decade, Aga Khan IV has instituted two major, and related, changes in Khojah jamats (congregations) worldwide. The first change that I discuss below began in 1988, and involved a reduction in the number of Imam's portraits hanging in the prayer halls. While they have not been completely removed, there are generally two photos left in each prayer hall. The photographs have been in jamatkhanas for decades, as a reminder of the Imam and a way to focus prayers. The other change is the removal of the takht, a symbolic throne of the Imamate, which was in jamatkhanas throughout East Africa. The next two sections of this chapter are concerned with outlining these reforms, and their effect on the Kenyan Ismaili community.

Removing the Photographs and the Takht

The first people I interviewed in Nairobi were Dolat and her grandson Alykhan. I was not prepared for the logistical situation I found myself in the day we were to meet. Being without a ride became the norm for me that summer, and I often found myself in awkward and confusing situations, imposing on my informants because I did not have my own transportation. That morning Riyaz Uncle had dropped his wife and me at the accounting agency where she works in downtown Nairobi on Kenyatta Avenue. Rozy Auntie was always uncomfortable in the car and on the street, and only felt safe once she was in her office. She told me that only a few weeks ago there was rioting in the area and everyone in her office was trapped there until late at night. She had only disdain for Kenya and Africans. I think she was particularly unhappy there because she was the only child left looking after my grandmother, which is a significant responsibility. She resented this forced duty, and was unable to leave Kenya even though her family had landing rights in Canada and recently won a US green card in the "diversity lottery."

Rozy Auntie worries about her future in this unstable situation, and is also concerned about her two teenage daughters. She works as a secretary for a multinational accounting firm based in England, with branches all over the world. I had never heard of the company before I went to Kenya, but since then have noticed their sponsorship of athletic and artistic events worldwide. Just before lunch, Rozy Auntie walks me to the office where Alykhan is working this summer for his father's insurance company. While I wait for Alykhan to finish up with a customer, I speak to his father, a man with graying hair and a firm, round belly sagging over his thin belt. I discover that he used to live in the Bay Area in the late 1960s and had planned on emigrating there permanently, but for some reason, moved back to Kenya.

The plan is for Alykhan and me to go to his grandmother's house for lunch. When I spoke to Dolat a few days ago, she suggested that the best way for us to meet was for me to hitch a ride with Alykhan and join them for a meal. Then I could interview them both. Alykhan looks preppy and is wearing a polo shirt with designer khaki pants. His clothes and trendy goatee seem out of place in Kenya, where most Africans I see on the streets are wearing dull business suits, sweaters and dresses. He is a student at a small liberal arts college in New England. When we arrive at Dolat's apartment, I feel a little awkward about intruding on their family meal. After a hearty lunch with fresh, warm chapatis made by Dolat's smiling cook, we settle into the living room for the interview.

I realize then that this will be awkward. Since we are in the only public space in the townhouse, I cannot interview Dolat privately. Where would Alykhan go? I realize that Dolat's views are unlikely to change given her grandson's presence. Although I believe his opinions might change in her presence, I decide to worry about that when it is his turn. In our discussion, which lasts several hours, Dolat addresses both of us as her grandsons, and answers some questions by asking for confirmation from Alykhan. "You will marry an Ismaili girl?" she asks both of us. "You must say du'a three times a day. You must pay dasond (tithe) on all your earnings." Dolat is not only answering my questions, but trying to reiterate appropriate Ismaili values to us young men. After a long time, I apologize to Alykhan who is waiting patiently while his grandmother tells me stories he must have heard many times. He looks bored, but because he is polite, he says he will wait until we are done. By this time it is late afternoon and he has missed half a workday. Dolat offers to drive me home, but with the approaching rush-hour, is convinced against it by her grandson. At 4 pm we leave Dolat's apartment, and I begin to interview Alykhan while we drive back to his office.

I find out that he disagrees with some of what his grandmother says. He says without hesitation that he would consider marrying a non-Ismaili, and he disagrees with the strict practice of dasond. He favors zakaat, the alms that most Muslims give to the poor, but not a specified amount of their income. He complains that:

Some Ismailis are like sheep; they rely entirely on the word of the Imam... The other day I was coming back late at night and my mom told me to say salwaat (rosary prayers) when I was coming back. It was the way she said it. She thought this alone would cause God to protect me. This type of faith is not good because you can't control what other drivers are doing. But sometimes faith works. If you believe something will happen, then it might. But at a certain point, God can't help you. These people have BLIND FAITH.

While Alykhan had differences with his grandmother, which he would never have expressed to her, they did agree on the merit of recent reforms mandated by Aga Khan IV.

While Dolat accepted the changes in du'a and other reforms without question, her grandson Alykhan supported the reforms for different reasons. On the removal of Aga Khan IV's portraits, he said:

Good thing that they removed the photos of the Imam... This has made it more spiritual by removing a physical image. Praying to an image is idol worship. People should pray to the image of God they have in their mind.

Like Navroz, Alykhan seems to have a greater Islamic sensibility than the older generation, that can be traced to a religious education curriculum which has increasingly emphasized Ismailis as part of the larger global ummah. Religious education has become standardized the world over, and the curriculum, which includes colorful and well-illustrated children's readers, activity books, parent's and teacher's guides and other visual materials, is produced by the Institute of Ismaili Studies in London. The education program is titled Ta'lim, which reflects the increasing use of Arabic to emphasize a Muslim identity. One of the major objectives of the program, as stated in a brochure, is to:

promote recognition of the rich intellectual and cultural heritage of Islam, and of the Ismaili Tariqah within it. In doing so, the pupils are encouraged to appreciate the diversity of cultures and traditions within the wider Muslim world and in the Ismaili community (Institute of Ismaili Studies).

This objective clearly locates Ismailism within Islam, and by emphasizing diversity, is able to legitimize Ismailism within the larger Muslim ummah, and to underline the importance of a pan-Ismaili identity at a time when non-Khojah communities are becoming known to the greater Ismaili community. The program places much more emphasis on shared Islamic history including the centrality of Allah, Prophet Muhammed, and the tradition of Sufism.

In our conversation, Alykhan points out that, "When [my] family speaks about Muslims they don't include themselves - [they] say it as if we are better than [other] Muslims." The majority of my informants openly agreed with the Islamic reforms, regardless of gender and generation. On the removal of photographs from the prayer hall, people said:

Outside the community, they [Muslims] talk a lot because there were a lot of photos. Doesn't mean a photo has to be there to worship. It's all in your dil (heart). (Khatun, female, middle age, lower class)

[The change is] taking us more towards Islam. I don't think they [Muslims] have [photos]. (Amin, male, middle age, middle class)

Mowla Bapa's (Lord Father, synonym for Imam) photographs - so many [that] every wall had two. From Hazar Imam instructions [that there should be] only two photos. Much more simpler, it was gaudy before... Initially a little difficult to accept it, but [these are] Hazar Imam's guidelines. (Shera, female, middle age, upper class)

Many of my informants made reference to the photographs and the takht as idol worshipping. In fact this was such a common statement that I am inclined to believe that this was the official explanation offered to Ismailis by their leaders, and to youth in religious education classes. As Khatun and others mentioned, non-Ismaili Muslims were scrutinizing these practices and the changes were partially a response to pressure from these groups. There was also some confusion about who had implemented the change. Shera attributes it directly to the Imam, while another informant pointed to local leaders. Since this change was enacted worldwide, it must have been taken with the authority of Aga Khan IV. However, there was purposeful ambiguity in that the change was not officially announced in a message from the Imam, as was the change in du'a several decades earlier. The second important change called for by Aga Khan IV, which is related to the portraits, was the removal of the takht (also known as a gadi). Until recently, at the front of the jamatkhana prayer hall there was a low, cushioned symbolic throne upon which Imams had sat during their visits centuries ago. The takht had a small photo of the Imam on it and people would prostrate before it, leave donations of money and flowers, and say their prayers before it. My informants explained the removal of the takht:

People lined up [at the takht], threw flowers. Why do pooja (prayer) at [a] photo? Hazar Imam should be in our heart when we do three du'as [and] give dasond. Why pray to a photo? (Zubeda, female, middle age, lower class)

The Sunnis protested against the takht.15 There [should be] no high respect for a human being in a hall of prayer - pray to Allah. Above everything, there should be no physical [representation]. (Ismail, male, elderly, lower class)

As with the discourse surrounding photographs, there are concerns that the takht is a Hindu object of worship that is a hold-over from before conversion. As Ismail makes clear, there is the question of pressure and disdain from other Muslims about these religious practices.

Many of my informants, when speaking about Ismaili rituals and practices, emphasized the esoteric nature of the Ismaili faith. A recurring theme was the spiritual aspect of the beliefs, and not their physical manifestation. Bashir, a wealthy businessman spoke to me about the takht. He explained:

That was all physical. Moving from the physical to the spiritual. Takht and all came from Indian culture. Hindus and even Sikhs have something in the middle [of their temples] with pillows, nice fabric and a photo of Guru Nanak.16

Interviewing Bashir at work in an industrial area of Nairobi, I found that his statement about the physical and spiritual contrasted with what I saw in his office. His wall was dominated by a large framed photograph of himself, when he was young and slim, shaking hands with Aga Khan IV. He explained that when he was studying in the UK, he was able to meet the Imam in Paris. He said he had a "good chance," a common phrase among Ismailis which indicates an opportunity to physically meet or serve the Imam. When one is appointed an Ismaili leader, has the opportunity to travel to Ismaili headquarters in France, or can host Aga Khan IV when he is visiting his jamat, this is called a "good chance." This good chance is largely accessible to the wealthy and educated, and provides one with status in the community.

Since the photograph was taken in 1962, Bashir had served the jamat in many leadership roles in Kenya. In fact, he and his wife had indefinitely postponed their plans to immigrate to Canada because he was reappointed in a community leadership position. His wife Shera later told me that, "We were ready to move and were packed up to go. [We had] sent all our new furniture to Canada, but Bashir got reappointed... so we had to stay here." Their two children are studying and working in Canada. Shera and Bashir eventually plan to move permanently, so that in their old age they can be close to their children who will remain in Canada.

Bashir praised the removal of both photographs and the takht. Was it hypocritical for him to have a huge photograph of Aga Khan IV in his business office, or was it not contradictory since it was not a religious place of worship? In businesses and shops throughout Nairobi I saw photographs of Aga Khan IV on display. Even in Calgary, my mother and many other business owners display photographs of the Imam. In Kenya, they serve the dual purpose of letting customers know that the business is owned by Ismailis, and serving as a talisman for good luck, prosperity and protection, much like a Catholic crucifix. While for many these photographs are reminders of their Imam, on at least one occasion I witnessed someone burning incense and praying before a portrait of Aga Khan IV before opening his business for the day. Such worship before a physical representation of the Imam would be considered sacrilegious by many Muslims, and reminiscent of Hindu deity worship. While many of my informants agreed with the Islamic reforms, some confided their discomfort and confusion. Others resisted and challenged the new rules by continuing in their worship before images of the Imam.

In this section I have outlined significant Islamization reforms, including those mandated by both Aga Khan III and Aga Khan IV. These changes have been instituted in a top-down manner, and based on my informants' comments, there have been a variety of responses and resistances to these changes. It is important to note that the Ismaili community is widely dispersed, and that these reforms have been established in jamats worldwide. I focus on three important reforms, but do not give a detailed description of Khojah Ismaili practice. Since Ismaili jamatkhanas are not open to non-members, I have tried to respect Ismaili wishes for privacy, and do not discuss information which is peripheral to my analysis. I discuss Ismaili practices that are in the academic record, taking my lead from Cynthia Salvadori (1989: 222-234), one of the few social scientists who has written in detail about the Khojah Ismailis.

Response and Resistance to Islamization

The reaction to these reforms has been mixed, with most people expressing support, though much of it hesitantly. The responses seem to be influenced by age. Imran believes that the "people took them [the changes] very easily." He continues:

The lack of pictures [I] could understand. Most people [were] praying to the pictures... Deemed unnecessary by the Kenya Council and mukhisahebs (head of a jamatkhana)... Brings [up] idol worshipping... In the beginning [people were] wondering why, but within a month everyone [was] used to the new routine.

Imran's account paints a picture of rapid acceptance of the changes, but other Ismailis are more hesitant and unsure about the removal of the portraits and takht. Sheela expresses her ambivalence:

I understand in some way why we should integrate with wider Muslims. I still feel that it doesn't matter and that some of these things (specifically the takht) brought so much comfort for people. I guess we were converted from [Hindu] religion, and we have to let go and join with the thing to which we were converted.

While Sheela understands the importance of these changes, especially in transforming the relationship between Ismailis and other Muslims, she is aware of the role these items play in providing comfort. The differences in opinion are likely to be individual, but may be inflected by class status and generation. Ismailis of lower class backgrounds seemed to be more upset with the reforms than middle and especially upper class people. Most youth, of all economic backgrounds, attend the free religious education classes where they are being taught a pan-Islamic perspective, from a standardized global curriculum created by the Institute for Ismaili Studies in London. Many people I interviewed felt that the changes made by Aga Khan IV were necessary and important for Ismailis, especially in removing Hindu elements from the religion and in bringing Ismailis closer to other Muslims.

However, several people were not pleased with the changes, and expressed their dissatisfaction. Since I spent relatively short periods of time with my informants, they may not have been at ease about speaking intimately on these subjects. I believe that the few who did speak against the Islamic reforms may represent a larger group of people who were uncomfortable in telling me their true thoughts. Some people, however, were particularly upset about the removal of the takht:

I used to be very fond of and pray there [takht]. Finish jamatkhana by going there. Found VERY difficult. [Removal] related to the same concept as the photographs. Time is the only healing factor. Get over it - you don't need to go to a takht - can pray everywhere. Can do it here or at home. This was not really needed. (Farida, female, middle age, middle class)

Takht, there is no reason why it should be moved. I used to pass there before going to school to have nyaz (holy water). It was a square with Hazar Imam's photo, money, flowers put around. Why remove it? [It's] not bad or anything. (Tasneem, female, youth, middle class)

These people all expressed concern at the removal of the takht and photos, and seemed to be particularly frustrated because no one explained the reason for the change, nor was it clear who had initiated it.

Gulshan was the most outspoken person I interviewed on the topic of changes in the prayer halls. Her response to the removal of the takht and photographs:

Very big change, a very big change that has never taken place. No reason for taking takht. What was the reason? They didn't announce a reason. Only two photos now, in the corners. IF Hazar Imam [asked for removal] - why? He shouldn't have. Why? What for? People used to offer prayers, people pray at takht and wish comes true. I don't know why.

That Gulshan openly criticized the Imam is significant. For her these religious symbols represented comfort and tradition. I believe that her strong response is intimately linked to her class and racial status in the Ismaili community. She is the single mother of four sons, and was unemployed. She supplemented support from the community by hosting paying boarders - usually recent Ismaili immigrants from India and Pakistan. Like many of the lower income women living in Mboga Flats, she also cooks food for more wealthy Ismailis.

I was ushered into Gulshan's living room before the interview, and told to wait while she directed the servant in preparing the evening meal. Her son Rizwan, the mechanic, was repairing a car in the driveway. There was a pale gray cat curled up in the chair next to me. I looked around the simple apartment, at the scuffed floor and sun-bleached wallpaper. Gulshan glided back into the room. When I was first introduced to her I was surprised because she didn't match the image I had formed in my mind. She seemed to be African or of mixed background. Riyaz Uncle had not mentioned this to me, and although it is not important in itself, given the taboo surrounding African and Asian intermarriage I would have expected my host family to have pointed this out. The Ismaili community in Kenya is racially homogenous, but includes a few White converts, mixed race children and adoptees. I can only remember a few Africans that attended the jamatkhana. While Ismailism is a religion, for me and many other Khojahs, it is also a racial and cultural community. In many ways, Aga Khan IV's project to increase links among Ismaili communities and build bridges to other Muslims, is an attempt to remove practices considered to be Indian or "cultural" from the religious realm.

As a single mother struggling to provide for her family, Gulshan was scathing about middle and upper class Ismailis. For example, during politically tense times, Ismailis are advised by their leaders to prepare travel documents for emergency migrations. Following this advice, Gulshan went to get a Kenyan passport, which required her to provide information from her parents. Her father had come to East Africa during colonial times as a British citizen, and had died before Independence. Her mother was from the Coast and did not have any papers - she had returned to her village as a widow. Without documents from her mother, Gulshan was unable to apply for a passport even though she had been born in Kenya. The immigration office offered her a British passport because of her father, but this was unacceptable:

I don't want a British passport, because then I will need a visa and will have to start over. I have to get my mother [so I can get the travel documents]. What about the jamat of low standard. They don't have any kind of documents. Members of the Council will be the first ones to board the plane. Are they there to help themselves or to help the jamat?


When Gulshan approached Council members for help with immigration officials, she was met with a cold response. This was one of many instances in which her class and racial status separated her from the Ismaili middle class. Similar sentiments were echoed by several people from lower economic classes. Some of them thought that I was working for the Kenyan Council and began to lodge their complaints with me. I protested, but they still thought that I had some power to advocate for them. Lower class people do much of the manual labor in the jamatkhanas, while middle and upper class Ismailis serve the Imam through leadership or monetary support to the community. For example, only the wealthy were publicly recognized for their efforts by being given leadership positions and titles. The lower classes did the less glamorous, day-to-day work, and were rarely publicly acknowledged for their contribution. Gulshan was particularly critical about the class differences and the benefits awarded to those with money. I believe that her mixed racial status increased discrimination against her and her children, and could become more salient when her sons begin to look for marriage partners.

This type of criticism is rare within the Ismaili community where the Imam has ultimate and full authority (Aga Khan 1986: 7). Those who publicly challenge the Imam are likely to face mild community ostracism, and in extremely severe cases, could be excommunicated from the religion (Aga Khan 1986: 22-24). While these views of dissatisfaction were concentrated among lower income informants, it is possible that others with similar opinions did not feel comfortable in revealing them to me. In addition to these verbalized sentiments, I did notice a few other ways in which Ismailis resisted, or at least did not conform, to the norms of the Ismaili faith as proscribed by Aga Khan IV. For example, every person I interviewed had at least one photograph of Aga Khan IV in their office, store or house, and the majority had several. The photographs varied widely and some included his ex-wife Begum Salima and their three children. Gulshan, who bemoaned the removal of the takht and photos, had six pictures of Aga Khan IV in the living room of her apartment, including a fridge magnet and a kitschy commemorative plate. Displaying photographs of the Aga Khan, especially in large numbers, is one way in which Ismailis do not conform to the changes occurring in the jamatkhanas. Ironically, they agree that having portraits in a prayer hall is idol worship, yet they have photographs of the Imam on their walls, and some pray in front of Aga Khan IV's image.

Another aspect of Khojah Ismaili culture where people are unwilling to fully obey the wishes of Aga Khans IV is in their marriage ceremonies. This is significant, as Navroz explains:

There are many ceremonies for marriage, for example the doodhpinu (milk drinking ceremony) which seals an engagement. All these ceremonies are FORBIDDEN. They are Hindu ceremonies. The Ismailis know this but their concession is that they no longer take place in the jamatkhana.

Both Aga Khan III and Aga Khan IV have been aggressive in reforming marriage practices. Aga Khan III conceived an ideal Islamic marriage to be:

a contract, a question of consent...between two consenting adults... and not a lavish festivity celebrating a social arrangement or alliance between two large family groups, as is generally prevalent in Indian culture. (Asani 1994: 19)

He thus outlawed arranged and child marriages which were often a business transaction between two families. These reforms had two major aims: to eradicate ceremonies of Hindu origin which would be incongruous to the practice of Islam, and to make marriages simple and less expensive affairs so as to decrease wealth expenditure and displays of financial status.

The 1946 and 1962 Ismaili Constitutions provide explicit details for the reformed marriage ceremonies, including the prohibition of traditional Indian dress for the bride, limiting the number of reception guests, prohibiting certain ceremonies and the number of gifts which can be given and received by the bride and groom (Aga Khan 1962: 40-2). The Khojah Ismaili marriage became a site of intense reform, and some of the mandated changes are practiced, especially those that relate to the wedding ceremony itself which takes place in jamatkhana. However, as Navroz explains, many of the so-called Hindu ceremonies still occur. Furthermore, marriage is a key time of financial expenditure for a family, where they can display their wealth in a community very focused on status. The principal reason for limiting spending on marriages was to lessen displays of unequal wealth, but these continue. A close relative of mine was recently married in Britain, and the bride's parents, who used to be wealthy but are now unemployed, put on an extremely lavish wedding. They had 400 guests at their reception, and converted their small rented house and garden into a tented facility. They are very proud about the jewelry they were able to give their daughter, and the presents which must be given to a large number of relatives by the bride's family.

As is apparent from the discussion above, most of the changes that are instituted are enforced from the top-down. There seems to be little dialogue between Aga Khan IV and his followers about the changes taking place, or the ultimate orientation of the community. Generally, whatever the Imam decides is enacted with little overt resistance or response from the Ismailis. As I detail later in this chapter, many consider the Imam to have power to foresee the future, and to know what is best for the community. The Imam, however, makes slow changes when he feels the community is able to accept them. At the beginning of his 25th year as leader, Aga Khan IV said, "I would be deeply happy if the members of my Jamat...would reaffirm in a visible and united manner their commitment to the principles of Islam which bind all Muslims together..." (as quoted in Salvadori 1989: 233). While the majority of the changes have come from the top, I did notice one area where significant initiative was taken from the Ismailis themselves, and that is in fasting for the month of Ramadhan (Holy month).

Traditionally, Khojah Ismailis have not fasted with other Muslims for Ramadhan. There are several explanations for this. However, many informants said that increasingly, people were fasting of their own accord. Zubeda, a lower class middle aged woman explains:

Even I'm fasting, [it's] DISCIPLINE. You don't say bad words. These days MANY PEOPLE are fasting. I prefer it. After breaking [fast] don't go and do bad things. In khane they have food, for a whole month they have a table, just like Muslims.

Zubeda smiles as she smoothes down her dress and folds her hands neatly in her lap. She looks much older than she is - her hair is frizzy and she wears old-fashioned tinted eyeglasses that hide her eyes. The apartment she shares with her husband is much nicer than I had expected for one built for recipients of community welfare. Their home is clean and well-lighted. Zubeda and Ismail live in a building with fifteen units, constructed for some of the poorest families in Nairobi's Ismaili community. These housing collectives throughout East Africa are built by the community and sold at modest prices to lower class Ismailis. Zubeda is much younger than her husband and speaks in broken English. She is the daughter of a prominent Ismaili leader from Zanzibar. I wonder why she married an older man and why they are living under such circumstances if she came from a wealthy background. Ismail is very intelligent, and in his interview I gather that he has retired from the civil government. I wonder why they are now living on community welfare? Before the interviews they offer me tea. I ask them how they feel about the social services provided by the Ismaili community. Unlike Gulshan and Khatun, Zubeda and her husband are grateful for support and overtly thankful for the financial assistance. They have only praise for the Ismaili religious and secular leaders.

Like many of my informants, Zubeda goes to jamatkhana every morning for meditation. She does not go to the evening service because she prepares dinner for her husband, and spends time with him after he comes home from his part-time job. Since they do not own a car and there is fear among Asians during pre-election times, Ismail has not been to prayers in several months. There is a bus service which provides transportation for elderly and poor Ismailis for prayers twice a day, but this service takes too long for him. Ismail is less committed to going to jamatkhana than his wife. Since she is not employed outside the home, she can spare the extra hours involved in the bus ride. Like Zubeda, other informants noticed an increase in fasting among Ismailis:

In time to come, we will have to start [fasting]. Even though it is not compulsory, more people starting to fast. Personally, I respect the month of Ramadhan. [I] WON'T DRINK, try to fast if possible, depends on the individual. If you see brother Muslim fasting, you can't drink. (Amin, male, middle age, middle class)

These days many more people are keeping roza (fasting). I don't know if it is for health reasons or religious. When they have to face other Muslims [at work and in school], sometimes they don't know how to [explain why they are not fasting]. (Shirin)

This change in practice is significant, and is due to much more than the influence of contact with other Muslims. It can also be attributed to the increased pan-Islamic outlook promoted by Aga Khan IV. This is also reflected in structural accommodations at jamatkhanas, such as food after morning prayers for those fasting. While a minority of my informants fasted, the majority were aware of the increased observance of Ramadhan in the community.

Fasting was one area where I noticed a significant grassroots effort to move towards a more Islamic orientation.17 This increase was clearly noticed by Aga Khan IV because he recently made fasting on shukravari beej mandatory, which is when Chandraat (the night of the new moon) falls on a Friday. Previously, fasting on this day was voluntary and it was thought to be an auspicious day for repentance and prayers. Ismail mentioned that "Shukravari beej is now compulsory. Maybe in future generations, he [Hazar Imam] will say to fast [for Ramadhan]." I concur and believe this trend may result in Aga Khan IV asking his murids to fast regularly for the holy month. I doubt this change will happen without his explicit guidance because some people did not feel it was their duty to fast:

Some of our people do fast - they have always done it. Not that we should. We should follow Mowla Bapa's firmans. Within us to follow Hazar Imam, provided it is within Tariqah (religious laws and regulations). (Shera, female, middle age, upper class)

Fasting for a month makes one more of a fanatic, rigid in his ways, in his thinking. [Those fasting] wouldn't try to understand non-Muslims, other Muslims. We are not disturbed/bothered about it. (Aziz, male, middle age, middle class)

Of those people who did not fast, the majority, like Shera, said they would start if it was mandated by the Imam. Ismailis are reliant on Aga Khan IV for interpretation of their religious practices, since they are not codified in a book. Because they have a living Imam, many Ismailis consider themselves to have different rules to follow than those set down in the Qu'ran. This creates tension with other Muslims who feel that Aga Khan IV is a threat to the absolute word of the Qu'ran. It also affords the Imam broad control over all aspects, both religious and secular, of Ismailis' lives. Later in this chapter I will elaborate on Ismaili exceptionalism and Muslim identities.

Toward a Muslim Identity:
Youth Leadership, Ismaili Exceptionalism and Modernity

I think Ismailis see themselves as special - that they don't have to follow the five pillars of Islam. Two of them we don't follow - Hajj and fasting. [I think] if you want to be Ismaili, you have to be a Muslim first. (Alykhan)

As reflected in the conviction of Navroz, Imran and Alykhan, many youth have a stronger Islamic focus than their parents, or felt that Ismailism was a part of Islam and not a unique practice. Imran's sister Tasneem was one of the few young women I spoke to in Nairobi. She explains:

[As Muslims] WE FOLLOW THE QU'RAN and we have to follow that. Some people say these things are not compulsory. If it is written in the Qu'ran, it [is] compulsory. With Muslim friends we always dismiss that in school... Just because we are Ismailis we shouldn't be [exempt from the Qu'ran]. The Muslims don't have a lot of regard for us - not as much as we do for them. Other Ismailis talk [to Muslims] about how our khane is. They're right - we should [do all these things], we have to... Hazar Imam prays five times a day. If we follow him, he leads us, why don't we?

Some of the non-Ismaili Muslims I spoke to also raised the issues of difference between Ismailis and other Muslims. This difference was often presented as a discourse around women's appearance, as a gauge of Islamic authenticity.

Once I was being given a ride by Riyaz Uncle's driver who is a Bohra Muslim. He told me that Ismailis were too modern, and that they let their women wear inappropriate clothing like miniskirts in jamatkhana. Some Hindus I spoke to in Nairobi also felt that Ismaili women were too Westernized, since they never wore traditional clothing in public. A good friend of mine could always identify Ismaili women in a crowd based solely on what they were wearing - especially the fact that Ismaili women rarely wore "Asian" clothes in public. The move towards Western clothing was initiated by Aga Khan III's dress reforms in the mid 1950s. I asked my informants about these changes, and in almost all conversations this brought up the contemporary topic of women's attire in jamatkhana. Many people felt that while Western clothes were acceptable, people had taken the reform to an extreme. Tasneem explains that:

I don't think anyone knows values in khane. Compared to other Muslims it is a fashion show in khane. Our own Ismailis talk about these things - there is no respect. [Other] Muslims say to us that on Friday you have a fashion show.

Tasneem felt pressure in school from her Muslim peers who had disdain for Ismailis. She told me that most of her close friends were Asian Muslims, primarily Ithnasheris and other Shi'as. Interaction with other Muslims in school was a primary force in promoting a pan-Islamic identity for Tasneem, Navroz and others.

This increased Islamic orientation can be attributed to several other factors. First, the religious education received by younger Ismailis has been standardized internationally, so that the curriculum emphasizes the place of Ismailis within the larger Muslim context and reflects Aga Khan IV's Islamic focus. As Shirin explains, "the primary [school] books are more Muslim than Ismaili." Second, the Ismaili population in Kenya has decreased dramatically due to emigration, and thus is less able to assert a unique Ismaili identity. While Ismailis are usually grouped with other Asians, asserting a Muslim identity is a useful strategy in a country where there is a strong African Muslim minority and significant anti-Asian sentiment. Several of the youth I spoke to were studying abroad, where Ismailism is virtually unknown, and most of them have joined their university Muslim organization, and not groups for South Asian, Indian or African students. Third, many Ismaili students do not attend Aga Khan schools, which were almost exclusively Ismaili when their parents went to them. Now many youth attend schools with other Asians or Europeans, and many non-Ismaili Muslims attend Aga Khan Schools. This change has been largely due to the creation of elite private schools which wealthier Ismailis send their children to. Now Aga Khan schools, which were the top schools a few years ago, are now only mediocre. There is thus more interaction among communities and as Tasneem says, more explanations to offer to other Muslims. Finally, the profile of Ismailis in Kenya has decreased after Independence, especially because of the large exodus and the success of larger populations of other Asian groups, most notably the Shah and Patel Hindu communities. The Ismailis that remain in Kenya are primarily the elite and lower classes - the professional and educated classes was quick to leave.

The majority of Ismailis, especially the middle aged and elderly generations, have several ways of explaining or dealing with the questions coming from younger members of the jamat. As Farida remarks about changes in Ismaili practices, "If Muslims do it, we should as well - secondary school students always ask about this. More people fasting...[people] more aware." The people I interviewed were able to respond to questions of authenticity and legitimacy about their "Islamicness," centered around the five pillars of Islam which are thought to be essential for all Muslims. They fell primarily into two camps - one which pointed to how Ismaili practice fulfilled the five pillars of Islam in a distinctive way, and the other which marked Muslim practice as outdated and impractical. Still others were interested in changes but said that these must be instituted by Aga Khan IV.

When I asked my informants about the five pillars of Islam - tawhid (belief in one God), zakaat (alms), salaat (prayer), Hajj (pilgrimage) and roza (fasting) - several of them proceeded to draw parallels between these principles and Ismaili practices. Of those listed above, the most contested are the last two because few Ismailis have taken the pilgrimage to Mecca or fast for the month of Ramadhan. The first three pillars are less contested, although many people still consider that Ismailis worship the Imam in an inappropriate manner, which could be considered a breach of tawhid. Many of the Ismailis had interesting ways to justify their lack of participation in the pillars of Islam, and the explanations of Hajj were the most detailed.

As a young woman in East Africa, Dolat served as an assistant to Prince Alykhan and later to Mata Salamat, Aga Khan III's wife. One year Aga Khan III sent his wife to do the Hajj, and she asked Dolat to join her. While she described the Hajj as a magical event, and was honored to accompany Mata Salamat, she did not think it a necessary act for an Ismaili:

When you come to jamatkhana, that is a Hajj. How can we go to Hajj in all that hassle? You [are supposed] to walk to Mecca? ... [When I went] the Governor General of Pakistan had come by plane but his brother walked for six months from Pakistan.

In this quote Dolat challenged the traditional argument that Hajj is required of all able Muslims and is a pilgrimage to Mecca. She claims that if Hajj is necessary for all Muslims, they should conduct themselves according to the Qu'ran which specifies that one must journey on foot. She argues that going by plane shows much less devotion to God, which is the essence of a pilgrimage. For Dolat it is better that one goes to jamatkhana regularly, which shows devotion. As Bashir, an upper class, middle aged man concurs:

To us going to jamatkhana daily is the practice of a person with strong belief, rather than going for Hajj one year. There are a total of 600 million Muslims, not all going to Mecca. Only 1.5 million people attended last time. This throws it out by itself, what about standing as one of the pillars?

Dolat also seems to think that Hajj is an archaic tradition without relevance today. This attitude is likely influenced by Aga Khan III and IV who instituted reforms among Ismailis based on notions of "progress". In the Kenyan Ismaili community, Indian, Muslim and African traditions have often been painted as backward, in contrast to the "enlightened" ideas of Western modernity. There has been a generational shift, as younger Ismailis increase their Islamic orientation, and think of Hajj as compulsory for all Muslims.

Like Dolat, Sheela does not consider Hajj to be important. She explains, "Hajj is a spiritual journey. If you meditate, that is symbolic. This is something the soul goes through. You don't have to go to Arabia." Her last sentence about the unimportance of going to Arabia is directly related to her son's pilgrimage to Mecca the previous summer. Firoz offers a different explanation of the pilgrimage: "The Hajj for us is the Imam's dedhar (spiritual or physical vision or assembly of the Imam): it's spiritual, not physical." Many informants emphasized Ismaili esotericism and focused on the essence of a ritual, rather than the act. The majority of my informants that thought of Hajj as symbolic were middle aged and elderly, and contrast to their children and grandchildren who have been taught to think of themselves as part of the larger Muslim ummah.

Is the Ismaili focus on religious essence reflected in their daily practices, or is this rhetoric masking a desire for distance from mainstream Islam, which is often perceived in the West as backward and fanatical? I felt that many Ismailis were selective. For example, going to jamatkhana for many was not a religious experience but a primarily social one. Many people came to prayers to meet their friends and portray their social and economic status, rather than for primarily religious reasons. The first day I went to jamatkhana with my family, I wore a button-up shirt, dress slacks and a tie. It was a weekday so much less crowded and important than the Friday evening service. Before leaving the house, I asked my aunt and uncle if what I was wearing was appropriate, and they said it would be fine for a Monday night service. They pointed out that we were going to the Khoja Mosque in downtown Nairobi which had a more humble jamat than our local jamatkhana. We piled into the car - Rozy Auntie, my two cousins and I in the back - leaving the passenger seat for Nanima who lived in an all-Ismaili complex down the street. When Nanima saw me she started ranting about how underdressed I was. Why wasn't I wearing a jacket? I was the grandson of Ismail Kassam and the great grandson of Count Kassim-Lakha. What would people say?

I was taken aback by this response, and was slowly shrinking into the corner of the crowded back seat. My aunt and cousins were trying to quiet Nanima, and eventually they convinced her that nothing could be done now. I only owned two jackets, both of which I brought to Nairobi, and was planning on wearing them on Fridays and at Khushyali. Later on I interviewed someone about the recent immigrants from South Asia, and how one could distinguish them from East African Asians in jamatkhana. My informant said that newer immigrants would come to prayers without a jacket, wearing only a shirt. The interview and incident in the car highlight the importance placed on physical appearance in the Ismaili community - how it is a sign of class and status. By dressing like a recent immigrant I had stepped out of my expected class status within the community. Since I was living in Canada - in the West - I was expected to be even more "modern" and sophisticated than Ismailis in Kenya, and tension arose because I was dressing like a backward recent immigrant! This incident was one of many where I saw the intensity of class divisions within the Ismaili community, and the outrage that challenging or not conforming to that class structure produced. This reminds me of the anger that middle class Ismailis felt over allegations of drug dealing and prostitution that were levied against recent immigrants. The reaction by most Asians was to distance themselves as established, civilized and wealthy, so that their middle class status would not be threatened.

This situation is one of many which contradict claims by Ismailis that their emphasis is on the spiritual "essence" of Islam. The jamatkhana is full of markers of status including jewelry, clothing, cars, the amount of money they publicly donate, nandi they bring, and so on. For a community which claims to focus on essence and not on the superficial, there are too many significant status markers to justify such a claim. Instead of judging people on what they are wearing, my informants and grandmother could have emphasized what one believes and not what one wears. Of course my informants do not represent every Kenyan Ismaili, but there is a distinct status and commodity culture which operates among Ismailis in Kenya. This attitude also seems to have a class component, in that it is primarily middle and upper class Ismailis that feel justified is redefining the pillars of Islam. This may be a strategy to distance themselves from lower class people, who may be more likely to unquestioningly follow Aga Khan IV's advice, the teachings of the Qu'ran, or the teachings mandated in their childrens' religious education classes. There may also be the feeling among the upper classes that these Muslim beliefs are archaic and irrelevant to wealthy and sophisticated Ismailis. For this reason it may be easier for the upper class to support a form of Islam where essence is more important than practice, so that they can distance themselves from ritualistic practices which seem inappropriate in a Western framework of enlightenment and "civilization". Some Ismailis feel they are exempt from the pillars of Islam, was mentioned in other contexts besides Hajj. From Firoz I heard an interesting reason why people did not fast for Ramadhan. "We are supposed to fast 365 days of the year: care for the sick/poor, don't lie, don't cheat, be pious, have ethics and be mindful," he explained. While this is an honorable and ideal position to uphold, it is precisely because no one can live their lives in such a manner that a concerted effort during the month of fasting has been created. Does attempting to be a good person everyday exempt one from Ramadhan?

There were several points during my interview with Shirin, who was probably the most wealthy of my informants, where I could see how her class status shaped her viewpoint. In Chapter Three I quote her on the issue of citizenship and belonging. She claims that she "feels at home" in East Africa, which might be difficult at a time when there are political rallies calling for Asian expulsion, during which Asians were advised to stay home due to possible rioting and looting in downtown Nairobi. Shirin explained that if there was any significant political trouble, she could easily escape to Europe and North America where she had family and business investments. This type of mobility contrasts with Gulshan who could not obtain a passport despite being born in Kenya, and Khatun who pointed out the disparity between elite Ismailis who could easily leave the country, and poorer ones who would not be able to afford airplane tickets. Thus for someone like Shirin, it is easier to feel at home in a somewhat hostile place because her class status affords her the ability to leave (temporarily or permanently) if necessary. It is clear from Shirin's case how class, mobility and "belonging" are interlinked in allowing her to claim East Africa or another place - a sentiment which is not as easy for lower and middle class people who may not own land, have economic investments in the country where they reside, or the racial appearance which allows them to assert "belonging." She is not trapped like Gulshan and Khatun who could not as easily leave Nairobi if they wanted. In fact, as I point out in Chapter Two, these working class women could not even imagine being wealthy enough to emigrate from Kenya.

Shirin and I were speaking about some of the Islamic reforms being instituted within the community. We spoke about Hajj which she, like the majority of Ismailis, has not taken part in. Her servant came in to ask a question and, while they talked in Swahili, I looked through wide windows into the garden. There was a large, cobalt blue swimming pool rippling with the breeze. Several Black men were gardening - pulling weeds, planting new shrubs and flowers and doing general landscape work. I strained to look to the left where I saw two Mercedes and another car in the long circular driveway. Knowing that her husband had taken another car to work, I thought that four cars is excessive for a couple whose children have grown up. Shirin excused the servant and apologized for the interruption. I asked her about other changes including fasting:

I personally don't keep roza. My excuse is that it is supposed to make you think of the less fortunate. I'm helping them every day of the year. I don't have to feel hunger pangs. When I see a street boy I KNOW he has hunger pangs. When religion was introduced, to make people do good deeds you had to make certain rituals.

Her words were ironic. Living in a mansion in Nairobi's most posh neighborhood, lounging by the pool and being driven in her Mercedes, I wonder if Shirin really did understand hunger. Can anyone understand without experience, especially when one's life is so far from the reality of a street child? It was primarily her class status and privilege which made her feel like she was able to understand hunger. Shirin underestimated the value of fasting and, in some way, dismissed it as a ritual that was beneath her.

Firoz and Shirin, two elderly, upper class people, said that they did not need to fast because either they did it every day, or they understood what hunger felt like and were above empathizing with the poor. As Alykhan and Tasneem mentioned earlier in this chapter, some Ismailis feel they are exempt from Qu'ranic rules. While I did not interview enough people to draw conclusions, from my conversations it seems that women were more likely than men, and poor more likely than rich to fast for Ramadhan. This is a complicated question, and I think that women and the poor are more easily convinced of the importance of fasting. Men and wealthy people are more likely to question and challenge the practice, and be skeptical about the benefits. These Ismailis may also consider such activities to be below them - and since they already understand their significance, they believe there is no reason to carry out the act. Class as well as gender allow certain people to "refuse" to follow rules and rituals. Very likely this refusal is tied to notions of modernity, where Islamic rituals such as fasting and taking a pilgrimage are seen as simple, even fanatical. It was especially upper class people and men that were invested in these notions and markers of modernity.

While some Ismailis identify as Muslims, the majority continue to see their sect as spiritually distinct and exempt from rules that other Muslims are supposed to follow. This could be explained as a difference in interpretation. When I asked my informants if Ismailis should adopt some of the traditional Muslim practices, they were generally opposed. Sheela said that, "I hope there will be no reinstation of purdah (veiling of women) and Hajj... these would be a step backwards for Ismailis." Her comment reflects a modernist notion of temporality, and mirrors the general sentiment that Ismailis consider other Muslims to be conservative and stagnant - many referred to them as "other." As Alykhan explains, "When [my] family speaks about Muslims they don't include themselves. They say it as if we [Ismailis] are better than other Muslims."

Several informants considered Ismailism to be superior to other forms of Islam because having an Imam to provide guidance allowed for change to occur. Firoz harks back to a particular narrative of an Islamic past when he explains that, "Everyone was Shi'a before. The breakaway Sunnis - they can't change according to the times. For us, no problem, a smooth transition." Dolat agrees: "You see our religion is flexible. These Muslims pray namaaz (prayer) five times a day. Is that practical? No, we cannot live with these rigid rules." These quotes emphasize the progressive nature of Ismailism, and paint other Muslims in a negative light - as static, impractical and rigid - notions that are likely absorbed through Western discourse on the topic. The Ismailis are often cited in the West as a model Muslim sect because they defy Western notions of Islam as backward and patriarchal (Gibbon 1987: 23).

These are some of the tensions created by the introduction of Islamization reforms. Many aspects of Ismaili practice are being changed to be more in line with the hegemonic practices and discourses of Islam. Aga Khan IV is continually urging his followers to build bridges with other Muslims. In Chapter Three I analyzed the discourse around marriage, and found that all the adults hoped that their children or grandchildren would only marry Ismailis. Many would not be happy with a non-Ismaili spouse, and Sheela, in particular, said that a Muslim wife for her son would be "as different as a Christian or a Hindu." Rules and practices of marriage speak volumes about notions of cultural difference and the policing of sexuality. The younger generation seems to be changing because of their experiences and education which differ from their parents and grandparents.

As the above quotes from my informants show, there is the idea that Ismailism is unique because of the living Imam. Both Firoz and Sheela talk about time - "going back in time" and "keeping up with the times." These concepts are closely tied to the discourse around modernity, and by highlighting the Ismailis as able to change with the times, there is the implicit notion that other Muslims cannot or do not change. When I asked one of my informants about Ismailis that go on Hajj, she said that they are "ones that are extreme fanatics," thereby suggesting one of the central Muslim practices as suitable only for extremists. Ismaili ideas about Islam seem to resonate with those from the West, and tension arises when Ismailis simultaneously wish to ally and distance themselves from other Muslims. It is possible that this ambivalence is comfortable for Ismailis and Aga Khan IV. Furthermore, Ismailis in Kenya strategically underscore certain identities in specific situations as they become useful, and can shift how they identify based on the situation - whether it be as Asian, Kenyan, Ismaili or Muslim.

Ismaili Islamization and Other Muslim Revival Movements

The majority of my informants claimed that aligning with the greater Muslim ummah was positive. The reasons behind these changes were not clear, and as is apparent from the earlier part of this chapter, very few of the changes were clearly explained to the jamat. by local leaders. Several ideas about the benefits of Islamization can be distilled from my informants. These include pressure from other Muslim communities both locally in Kenya as explained by Tasneem, and globally as mentioned by Ismail. This is definitely a motivating factor, especially since the Khojah Ismailis have for so long been a minority community as Shi'as, Muslims, Asians, Kenyans and Indians/Pakistanis (Asani 1994: 17; Salvadori 1989: 222). Allying with the larger Muslim community might be beneficial for social, religious and political reasons, especially since many of the places where Ismailis live are largely or predominantly Muslim. Of course the benefits of remaining distinct include being palatable to the West by asserting an identity as modern Muslims. Herein lies the tension between the two viewpoints.

The movement towards Islam is facilitated not only through the removal of Aga Khan IV's portraits and takht, and changing of the du'a. Recently, Arabic prayers containing verses of the Qu'ran have been recited on holy or auspicious days. Many events, positions, honorary titles and publications have been re-named in Arabic, often changed from their original Gujarati. The jamatkhanas have been made to more closely resemble mosques in their orientation towards Mecca, Arabic calligraphy and filigree, and Islamic patterns and architecture. There has even been a more significant observance of Muslim holy days that were traditionally not celebrated by Ismailis, especially Idd-e-Milad-an-Nabi (the birthday of Prophet Muhammed), which now often involves lectures from Islamic scholars and joint celebrations with local Muslim communities. Some call these changes superficial and impractical but obviously they carry great symbolic import. As Gulshan explains:

Things [are] written in Arabic. How many people know the meaning of it? Everybody cannot read Arabic. Sometimes I look at calligraphy - looks like a design to me. If they tell us [what it means], we can teach our children.

Changing prayers and names to Arabic is not necessarily useful since very few Khojahs speak Arabic. While traditionally Ismailis have had very little institutional interaction with other Muslims, such conversations are increasing on a micro-level. Aga Khan IV has also reached out to other Muslim communities through development programs, and sponsorship of academic and artistic activities.

Many of the changes that have been made are related to rituals or practices within the jamatkhana. It is the prayer hall where Ismailis gather regularly, and it is the religion and Imam which define the Ismaili community and separate them from other Asian and Muslim groups in Kenya and elsewhere. The two major areas where Islamic reform has not yet occurred is fasting and the Hajj, both of which take place outside of the jamatkhana. Although fasting on certain days is now compulsory, these are Ismaili holy days and not broadly Muslim ones. The changes are Ismaili-centric and continue to keep the community separate from other Muslims. As Navroz pointed out, on a pilgrimage a feeling of unity is created. The fasting month is usually concluded by a huge celebration and feast called Idd-el-Fitr which is supposed to bring the whole community together. The desire for exclusivity may explain why Hajj and roza have not been reformed, since they would be likely to substantially increase interaction with other Muslims. While there has been a shift to a more Islamic outlook, the changes have not really increased the

social and religious interaction between Ismailis and other Muslims, but have been limited to changes in Ismaili practice itself.

Gulshan related to me some speculation she heard at jamatkhana: "people say the namaaz will be instituted, and they will take out the du'a completely." I think such a drastic change is unlikely since it would begin erasing boundaries between Ismailis and non-Ismailis. If Ismailis said the same prayer as other Muslims, why would they continue to go to jamatkhanas, and why would other Muslims not be allowed to come to the jamatkhana? Many of my informants have explained their investment in Ismailism as unique and more desirable than other Muslim practices, and this type of change would challenge such beliefs. Such a change could only be implemented by Aga Khan IV, and one would question why he would do so. By moving Ismailis fully toward mainstream Islam, his position as the leader of a distinctive community would be put in jeopardy. If Aga Khan IV was to make such reforms, it is likely he would lose his position as head of a progressive and successful transnational Muslim group. There is a conscious effort to move towards the dominant notion of Islam, but at the same time keep Ismailis as a separate and distinct community instead of becoming assimilated into the larger Muslim ummah. Whether this is fueled by the Ismailis themselves, their leader, or is due to unique Ismaili doctrine, is difficult to say.

While pressure from other Muslims seems to be a compelling argument for the Islamic reforms, it cannot by itself explain such changes. Islam has a history of proselytizing and at one time Muslim empires stretched from Spain to Indonesia to North Africa. The religion was presented and received in different ways, and in many ways indigenized. The practice of Islam in India, Senegal and Malaysia is very different from the hegemonic Sunni Islam practiced in much of the Arab world. As such Khojah Ismailism is unique in its practice, which reflects the conversion from Hinduism, Westernization reforms and leadership under the Imams. The Khojah Ismailis' closest religious cousins, the Bohras, have not gone through similar reforms. The Bohras are also Shi'as, and the descendants of Hindu converts from Gujarat. They too have a strong community in Kenya, a Dai (leader) in India, and a history of secrecy and persecution, but have not gone through the same Islamic reforms as Ismailis.18 The Bohras have faced many of the pressures that Ismailis have, especially from other Muslim groups.

What may be a unique impetus for reform is that the international Ismaili community includes many non-Khojahs from Central Asia that have very different languages, customs, histories and practices from Khojahs. Some communities have been cut off from the Imam for centuries, and have had to practice in hiding under communism. Aga Khan IV is dealing not only with outside pressure from other Muslims, but trying to forge a pan-Ismaili identity for all his followers. After the end of communism in the former Soviet Union, many Ismailis from Central Asia and the Middle East are moving to the West, where they are minorities in largely Khojah jamats. They are less wealthy, less educated, less accustomed to Western ways and less proficient in English than the Khojahs. They are also in a numerical minority and for all these reasons have very little power in these communities. As more of these Ismailis migrate to Khojah-dominated jamats, Aga Khan IV has increasingly to deal with this difference in culture, and provide tools for his followers to build community across obvious difference. This is best facilitated by strengthening the Ismaili identity by becoming more universal than the current Khojah model. The Imam must move toward a version of Ismailism that is palatable to Ismailis from vastly different experiences. In Chapter Five I talk about how Aga Khan IV is successfully building a transnational, multiracial and multicultural Ismaili community, and how this challenges conventional notions of diaspora, nation and religion.

Islamization among Ismailis is one of many movements in the Muslim world focused on revival of cultural and religious practices. The more recognized efforts, known by many as Islamic fundamentalism, have occurred in Iran, Pakistan, Egypt, Morocco and elsewhere. Martin Marty, in thinking about fundamentalism, lays out certain commonalties between these movements. He provides several criteria which lead me to believe that Islamic reforms among Ismailis cannot be defined as fundamentalism. This is not merely an exercise in semantics, since this discussion provides a comparative perspective in which to understand the revival spearheaded by Aga Khan IV.

What is most strikingly different is that most fundamentalisms take place within a nation-state framework, where religious law challenges or replaces secular law - for example the implementation of the Shariah (Qu'ranic law) in Pakistan and Iran. In contrast, Aga Khan IV and the Ismailis operate in a transnational framework, linking up unrelated communities and negotiating local laws where Ismailis live. A state-based framework provides methods for Islamic reforms to be enacted through politics, economics, and education. Such changes become law and can be used to control and coerce people, where the Ismaili Constitution does not have the same authority in a transnational setting. Marty also mentions the need for a strong idea of tradition (1992: 18) upon which to base a fundamentalist movement. The Ismailis that I spoke to in Kenya did not seem to have such a notion. Firoz, Dolat and others mentioned the benefit of the Imam as one who can continually re-interpret and adjust practices - which contradicts the idea of a singular "correct" tradition. This fluidity makes Ismailis unsuited to two other tenets of fundamentalism: resistance to ambiguity and a clear definition of the fundamentals (Marty 1992: 19-20, 21). The Ismaili situation is ambiguous and based on multiple influences, which did not seem to bother the majority of the people I spoke to. Furthermore, the type of Islam that Ismailis should move towards is unclear. I believe Aga Khan IV has purposely left his vision of the future vague so that change will occur slowly and with minimal resistance.

Based on this comparative analysis, it seems that the changes in the Ismaili community are both reactions to the greater Muslim ummah, and responses to the globalization of the Ismaili community especially with the relatively recent incorporation of Central Asian Ismailis into the world jamat. These two points are, of course, inter-related: if Khojah Ismailis who have more global status are deemed un-Islamic, it could have grave repercussions for the other Ismailis in Central Asia who are under more intense pressure to conform to traditional Islam, especially those living in countries with large Muslim populations. Furthermore, while the Ismailis have come under fire for practices which do not fit with the hegemonic notion of Islam, they also occupy a position in Islam that is the envy of many other communities (Gibbon 1987: 23) especially in their status as progressive in the Western world. Aga Khan IV is probably the most respected Muslim leader in the West, and is on good terms with the leaders of many nations, including those with large Muslim populations. Particularly because of the vast and wealthy Aga Khan Development Network (Kaiser 1996: 2) which is focused on providing free education and health care, Aga Khan IV has been able to build strong ties with governments and institutions in various parts of Asia and Africa. The Ismailis, especially those in the West, are generally more educated, wealthy and stable than others in the Muslim world (Gibbon 1987: 23), and because of their philanthropy and the position of their Imam, are usually shielded/immune to significant direct criticism from others.

The last three decades have been a period of intense change for the Ismailis in Kenya, not only because of these Islamic reforms, but in the migration of a majority of the community to North America and Europe. While the reforms are said to bring Ismailis closer to the Muslim ummah, it seems that they are Ismaili-specific and do less to assimilate the Ismailis, than they do to strengthen the diverse Ismaili community. These reforms have served the purpose not only of responding to criticism from other Muslim communities, but also attempting to forge a pan-Ismaili identity. The creation of this global identity is complex and intimately related to discourses of nation and diaspora, which are examined in the next chapter.


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